


A New Kind of Paradise

by theunknownaura30



Category: Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Beginnings, Break Up, Bromance to Romance, Dorks, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-11-21 08:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18139904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunknownaura30/pseuds/theunknownaura30
Summary: Drabbles after the events of Brave New World, and maybe divergences from the canon/alternate endings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this was a good idea, but once you start imagining these scenarios between characters, you start to think they're real and can never go quite back :,D. Anyway, this one is a drabble about Helmholtz and Bernard adapting to their new life out of London, where they live in a cabin in the mountains together. I hope you enjoy it xP

They exchanged sharp glances.

 

Helmholtz averted his eyes, writing again. Bernard watched as those soft black curls fell upon his face, the way Helmholtz's eyebrows furrowed when in deep concentration, and yet, somehow maintaining that look of pure decency. His eyes softened slightly at the sight. He felt guilty. Helmholtz deserved so much better than him. 

 

He sat down at the table, in deep thought. Perhaps Helmholtz would allow a suggestion or two, just this once. He  _wanted_ to help him. A lot. "I think I have some ideas that will make your writing really pierce. Here, try this," he said, reaching for the pencil out of Helmholtz's hand gently. He then scribbled an idea onto the paper, and Helmholtz's eyes widened. Bernard had written,  _Write about deep, meaningful relationships. To get people to feel, the characters have to, too. Be honest in your writing. People like books they can relate to._

 

Helmholtz looked up, and at Bernard. The true wisdom behind his bright eyes was piercing. "That's what my writing was missing," Helmholtz said in realization. "Feeling. Breaking from societal norm." He grinned before putting on his spectacles and jotting down more ideas. So deep was his ferocity in doing so that Bernard was surprised when he looked up again. His eyes shone with gratitude. "Thank you." They were brown, deep and chestnut, and his smile was warm and soft, welcoming as it had always been. Bernard stilled for a moment, forgetting where he was. And then he remembered Helmholtz's words, and mustered a reply. "Anything," he uttered, and Helmholtz nodded and went back to writing.

 

It stayed like that, in that intense silence, for a few hours more. Bernard had left Helmholtz alone to really focus, but soon realized they had to eat at some point. He was in the kitchen then. "Helmholtz," he called as he lifted a pot from the cabinet. Helmholtz appeared not to have heard, still working on his writing. Bernard walked over. "HELM-holtz." Having spectacles himself, he didn't pluck Helmholtz's off his face, but rather, swiped the notebook from under him. Helmholtz yelped and growled at Bernard, who grinned widely. 

 

"Hey, it's almost 7:00. I'm going to make dinner, alright?" "Yeah, okay," Helmholtz grumbled, miffed at being disturbed in a groove. Forty minutes later and two dishes of a new concoction sat upon the furnished table. "Hey, Seuss," Bernard kidded, swatting Helmholtz's notebook with a pencil of his own. "Time to eat." "NOW?" Helmholtz growled, putting a hand to his head. "I was just getting in the mood!" "You were IN the mood for hours." Bernard smirked, pointing out the obvious. "It's about time to reboot, no?" "Ugh! You are so.. ugh!!"

 

Bernard only laughed. "You know you love me." He said, trying not to think too much about the words that came out if his mouth, and how his own feelings came into account.  Helmholtz rolled his eyes, leaning back with arms crossed. "That's  _one_ twisted way of looking at it." Bernard chuckled and pushed a plate his way. Helmholtz wrinkled his nose. "What in Ford's name is THAT?" "Something called spaghetti," Bernard said, glancing at his smartphone where he had extracted the recipe. "There are a lot of unblocked websites out here."

 

"Is it safe?" Helmholtz said tentatively. He poked at a meatball cautiously. "What is it made of?" "Cow meat, tomato, wheat, essentially. Nothing harmful. Would I really try to poison you, Watsy?" Helmholtz glared at him flatly. "DON'T call me that, ever." Bernard grinned widely. "Well, okay.." Finally Helmholtz took a bite, and thoughtfully chewed. No doubt wondering about writing a description of the new food, Bernard mused. "How is it?" He asked. Helmholtz scooped his fork in for more. "Surprisingly.. delightful." "Hm," Bernard said, trying some of his own.

 

He then let out a hum of surprise. It WAS actually quite delightful. A new flavor though, he had no idea quite where to begin. It was nothing like anything he had tried before. He would leave the description up to Helmholtz, he decided, and took another bite. Simply exquisite. "My, we'll have to try this again," he praised, to which Helmholtz agreed with a nod of his head. They ate in a comfortable and ravenous silence, metal clinking against ceramic bowls. After the meal was finished, Helmholtz laid back and sighed. As he closed his eyes, Bernard peeked at him, and felt his cheeks grow hot and tingly. Helmholtz was a handsome man, but not in the way most were-- he was beautiful inside and out. Even when he slept, his face retained that gentle care, the one that would always lend a hand to anybody in need. 

 

Bernard averted his eyes quickly, and instead trained them on Helmholtz's empty sauce-ridden bowl. "I'll take that for you," he offered, and went to wash them. Helmholtz opened his eyes to catch Bernard trotting to the sink. "No, wait, I'll wash my own," he said, getting up to help his friend.  Bernard shook his head. "No, it's fine." "Nope," Helmholtz said softly. He reached for the bowl, and accidentally brushed Bernard's fingers. He grabbed the bowl and began to scrub, and they both did so in silence. The bowls went to the cabinets, the forks to the drawer. Bernard scrubbed the pot and returned it to the shelf.

 

"Tell me what you want tomorrow morning. I'm open to suggestion." He said, and headed up the stairs. Helmholtz felt his heart drop low as he ascended even higher. "Where are you going?" Bernard yawned, not looking back. "To sleep. It's been a long day." "Wait," Helmholtz said, his voice a tad bit panicked. He turned Bernard back to him, quickly but carefully. His own eyes widened. "What?" Bernard said, a single eyebrow raised above the frame of his spectacles. 

 

Helmholtz frowned, because he hadn't even planned what he was going to say. He just wanted Bernard to STAY, but.. He didn't know why. Didn't everything have a reason? That was how it had been before. You didn't ask people to stay if you didn't WANT anything from them. He didn't even feel like talking, necessarily. He just wanted Bernard to be there with him. Doing absolutely nothing at all, which was strange. Very odd indeed. 

 

"I.. I don't know," Helmholtz said honestly. "Sorry. I just.. I'm feeling weird, I guess. Ever since we've left London, I've learned so many things my head just spins. It's so confusing, all these Old World matters, you know? But never mind me. Get some rest, Bernard." He said, casting his friend a reassuring smile. Bernard frowned and shook his head. "No. I will stay with you." He assured, placing a hand on Helmholtz's shoulder. His cheeks warmed, the hand was so soft, comforting. Who knew he could be so happy?

 

He beamed. "Thank you. I'll make some coffee, then, if you'd really like to stay up with me tonight." "I would." Helmholtz started the pot, gathering some aromatics along the way. Bernard dished out mugs, cream, and sugar. "I'm glad there's no more soma," Bernard mentioned as he placed them all on the counter. Helmholtz nodded seriously, "It put us all under delusions, you know." Bernard chuckled darkly. "You can say that again. I can't believe I began using it, in the end. Everything was getting to me."

 

Helmholtz was silent as the coffee brewed. He hadn't really liked who Bernard had turned into, either. A transformation before his very eyes. He was glad that everything had come back to normal, and at this thought, reached over to squeeze Bernard's hand, the real Bernard who he couldn't bear the thought of losing again. It had been like quicksand, one step away from being gone forever. That couldn't happen. He held onto his hand for a moment. "I never did thank you. For going back to being yourself."

 

Bernard's eyes softened, and he smiled a bit at Helmholtz. "It was my mistake. Don't apologize, Helmholtz." They held their grins and hands for a moment before letting go, and Helmholtz stood to take a look at the coffee. "It's ready." He announced. They prepared their own, then sat back on the old squeaky leather armchairs of the cabin. Bernard found it more satisfying than those pneumatic beanbags that had covered every surface in the Conditioning Center. In fact, everything here was just so relaxing, and simply.. fit. London had never made him feel so content or safe. He was always among people who never understood, who fit right into those little boxes and bottles and did nothing beneficial or just, ever. The government controlled all, and took away the one thing that came at natural birth-- individual and intellectual thought.

 

Here, he finally felt free.

 

And who better to share all this with than Helmholtz?

 

"A toast," Bernard said, raising his porcelain coffee mug in the air, "to a better life." Helmholtz grinned and raised his cup. With a tinkling click, the coffee sloshed on the men, and they laughed. The light from the fireplace glowed across them, accentuating the shadows in each curve and crevice of their angled faces. Then they lifted those mugs up to them, and drank till not a drop was left. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is Bernard x Helmholtz again, sorry. :,D. This time it's when they're still living in London, and unsatisfied with their positions in society. Before they meet John, or even before the book starts, really. Divergence from the canon.

Helmholtz Watson sat at his khaki writing desk, slumped. Sweet Ford, how many minutes had gone by? He checked his pocket watch. One. He finally put down his pen, and gazed at the wall. 

 

 _I get so tired of the same things all the time. Day in and day out, the same old feelies, the same old Conditioning Center, the same old ideals and smiles and trivial lifestyles. Isn't there a purpose for our existence besides being bored and hopeless and bombarded all the time? There has to be. There just has to._ The topic inhabited his mind so often that he often wrote about it in a secret diary, which he hid underneath his zippyjamas in a drawer. It was easily his best and most superior work, but publishing it was unthinkable. Nobody would understand. They were all satisfied with the endless recreation in sport, sex, and soma. They didn't seem to grasp any kind of other meaning beyond it. He wondered if he was, just maybe, going mad sometimes. In that sense, the diary was for himself only- with the exception of his fellow misfit and admired friend, good old Bernard Marx.

 

"Come in, Bernard," he whispered now, reaching for his hand and pulling him into the room. He immediately relaxed in the presence of the other man, feeling the tension that constantly held him, even while alone, easily fade away. His favorite moments were those where he could simply be in Bernard's company and talk to him one on one, without the rest of the world invading. It was peaceful, and Bernard was honestly the one thing he truly could count on to never disappoint, should even his writing fail him (which it often did). 

 

He held his friend's hands and smiled. Bernard raised an eyebrow, a small and playful smirk settling upon his features. It was common of Bernard to do. Quite snarky, but.. endearing. He asked Helmholtz, "What did you write today?" Helmholtz considered him for a moment before saying, "Please, take your shoes off." He wanted Bernard to feel at home. Gently he stooped down and slipped the suede cloth from his feet, and Bernard's tan cheeks flushed a bit. He smiled and shrugged off his coat. "Thank you." 

 

Helmholtz let out an "Mm hm" before they arranged some pillows on the ground and sat on them, as far away from the door so as not to arouse any suspicion. They always had to do that. It was habitual by now. Bernard then whispered again. "So. What did you want to discuss?" Excitedly Helmholtz brandished the diary from his drawer. He flipped to the current page and pointed it out to Bernard, where a question had been circled again and again. "I want to know what the point of life is."

 

At this Bernard's face immediately shifted in demeanor. What had been a sparked interest gave way to a deep and unsatisfied gloom, the look he often held when Helmholtz caught him alone in thought. Bernard rested his chin in his hand and was silent for a moment before speaking, in what had to be the most regretful voice. "Do you really want to know, Helmholtz?" "Yes, that's why I asked. Do you know, my friend?" Bernard's eyes were tender and sullen as he gazed at Helmholtz, in a way so intimate it required not even touch. Helmholtz looked back at him, silent as well.

 

They stared at each other a moment more, before Bernard said, hesitantly, "I'm worried that it's not.. I think we're  _meant_ to be controlled, Helmholtz. I think we're put on this Earth to suffer, as some sort of cruel joke for the gods. It's not enough that we're misfits to the people, no. Even Ford punishes us by making us lonely for our unorthodox ways . But I couldn't change if I tried." He said thickly, gazing at the floor. Helmholtz felt more heartbroken at Bernard's expression than the words spoken. He gripped his friend's hand tight for support.

 

"You are not alone, Bernard. You are not alone. I am here." His respectable voice trembled slightly too. Bernard shut his eyes, head down. He felt the sorrow engulf him again, he wanted to escape, he wanted to escape, he.. suddenly a pair of warm steady arms wrapped around his body slowly, securely and nestled. Bernard was in a cocoon. Safe, guarded, deeply hurt, but protected with all might. He returned the embrace, hanging on with what he could muster. To say Helmholtz was his best friend, the best anyone could ever have, was the understatement of the century. He always went above and beyond, and Bernard was so gracious in that moment, and overwhelmed by the ugliness and separateness of the world, that he began to cry. 

 

Helmholtz stroked his back and kept him in the tight embrace throughout, a rock of reason and stability in Bernard's crippling tide. Bernard separated to be greeted with that wise, gentle look Helmholtz always held. He smiled slightly himself and squeezed Helmholtz's hand. Helmholtz grinned and they stayed like that for a moment, their palms warm in each other's own. A peaceful, and yet slightly bittersweet silence filled the air. 

 

Well. It was best Bernard should be going now. People would grow suspicious if he stayed for too long. They often told Helmholtz that Bernard's influence would "rub off on him if he kept spending TIME with the boy." Helmholtz never took it seriously or cared, of course, but the risk of what they could do to him because of it was high. They still needed to be careful. 

 

"You should.. probably be going." Helmholtz said reluctantly as he handed Bernard his coat. Bernard nodded and slipped on his shoes. "Yes.. though, um.. thank you for everything. I sincerely mean that, Helmholtz." He looked straight into his eyes with that sharp, witty tenderness. Helmholtz's face lit up, though he quickly damped it down. He nodded his head. "Anything, Bernard. Farewell for now." "Bye." Bernard said, and walked out the door.

 

Helmholtz stared at it for a moment before sighing and slipping off his own shoes. Well, time to maybe get some rest- a sharp rapping caught his attention. It was Bernard again. The door closed behind them. Helmholtz addressed him first.

"Yes? Did you forget something, Bernard?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did."

"What?"

"This." Bernard said earnestly, his voice just above a whisper. Then he leaned up and cupped Helmholtz's cheek, and kissed his lips with a sincere sort of softness. Helmholtz's eyes widened and he didn't do anything for a moment. Then his eyes drifted close and he pulled Bernard closer. Bernard lightly played with the bouncy curls of Helmholtz's hair, while one of Helmholtz's hands rose to Bernard's cheek, his thumb stroking the soft part beside his eye. Their kiss was silent and peaceful, with nothing to prove, just as the atmosphere had been moments before. 

 

They separated, their hands still loosely connected in front of them, smiling. "Wow." Helmholtz said finally. Bernard blushed and rubbed his neck. "Now I really should be going." "Yes." "But I look forward to our next meeting," Bernard said shyly, tossing him a last glance. With a little grin, and a slight wave of the hand, Helmholtz leaned against the edge of the doorway and said, "Me, too."

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lenina x Bernard, sort of. Both have disagreements about what a relationship should be, and they do not come to a compromise. This one's pretty short, and would take place the morning after they slept together. Different from the canon

"God dammit." Bernard shook his head with a sardonic, broken chuckle. "I just can't do this, Lenina." "Whatever do you mean, Bernard?" He had hopped out of bed, and searched the ground for the clothes he had discarded the previous night. They were all crumpled up and disgusting, just like the action they had committed, filthy, ruined, lifeless. He pulled his top over his chest, continuing on.

 

"I know you don't understand. But.. this isn't the type of relationship I want. I like you, Lenina, I truly do, but you don't like or get me, not really." She frowned and rose, worried at his sudden change of mind, and yet confused by it. "Bernard-" "I don't want sex, Lenina. I just want to mean something to somebody, you know? This doesn't make me satisfied."

 

"What more could you want-"

 

"Anything but this." 

 

He slammed the door behind him, and her brow furrowed, then drooped.  Wordlessly, a rather blank expression clouding her features, she stooped over to retrieve her own clothes, the fabric dry and itchy against her fingertips.

 

 


End file.
